


Switch v2.0

by corvidae9



Series: Switchverse [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Third in a series of Switchverse follow-ups, and therefore unrepentantly AU.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-10-20
Updated: 2006-10-20
Packaged: 2018-10-18 16:51:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10621089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/corvidae9/pseuds/corvidae9
Summary: The Sorting goes awry again.  Fred and George?  Innocent as lambs. Swear. (Fred, George, Harry, Ron, Draco, Pansy, Hermione, Ginny, Luna, Cedric, Hannah, Vince, Greg, Oliver...oh god. Everyone. :P)





	

**Author's Note:**

> [](http://juice817.livejournal.com/profile)[juice817](http://juice817.livejournal.com/) rocks my world with her mad beta skills.

They'd had one of the best years at school ever.

Granted, Fred and George had only two other years for comparison, but still-- their third year had been beyond brilliant. And how could anyone complain that they'd met with anything but success? They'd managed to break up traditional family Sorting and mix the class of firsties up enough that their own little brother was not only a Ravenclaw, but tied for second highest marks in his year with his mate, a _Parkinson_ of all people. In fact, they were behind only that Slytherin Granger that knew every damn thing ever, and were just barely edging out the notorious Potter and Malfoy, probably only because those two spent too much time training to be vicious demons on the Quidditch pitch. (Between parading around breaking school rules and defying You Know Who, and being generous enough to cut the twins in on their chaos, that is.)

Clearly, Fred and George were destined to be folk heroes. Ballads would be written about and for them one day; to be sung while hoisting tankards with pretty wenches in their laps. Often when presenting themselves with this visual, it was all they could do to exchange a smug, self-satisfied glance and sigh deeply. It was only a matter of time.

Heroes, however, could not rest on their laurels. They needed to work tirelessly to serve their public and maintain their reputation. Fortunately, they had a plan.

###

Step One: Lag behind Ron and Harry (who had ended up at the Burrow after an escapade that involved misuse of magic and their mother convincing the Headmaster that Harry would be better off being fed once or twice for the remainder of the summer after his birthday, which was probably wise) at the train station so that the parental goodbyes are rushed.

Step T--- Wait what?

###

"Oi, oi. Nothing in the plan involves picking your sorry arses off of the ground and missing the train," said George, frowning at Ron and Harry currently sprawled among their scattered things after their disastrous trolley crash into the support, his eyes darting at the large station clock.

Fred's gaze darted from the clock to George and back to Harry as he dragged him up to his feet. "I know you're new at it, but it's easy-- You simply put one foot in front of the other and walk through."

"We're not idiots," grumbled Ron as he dusted his jeans off and bent to steady his trunk.

Harry got to his feet and thumped on the too-solid support before even touching his things. "It's just... not open..."

Fred and George exchanged another look and frowned, pushing Ron and Harry out of the way to inspect the column themselves, their twin looks of annoyance giving way to confusion. "Hold on--

"You broke it!"

"The two of you."

"For shame."

"We did not!" shouted Ron looking from one twin to the other. Cowed slightly by the stern station attendant passing nearby, he lowered his voice. "We didn't break it."

The clock chimed the hour and all four boys stared, uncomprehending. Harry licked his lips and pointed. "We've missed the train."

"And if we can't get through, how are we going to get back to school?" Asked Ron, his eyes only going wider as he added, "Worse, what about Mum and Dad? How do they get back?"

Fred and George were displeased. Things didn't always go according to plan, but this was a cock-up of spectacular proportions, and by all accounts, not their fault. Still, it was funny, if you thought about it-- as most things were.

As Harry gathered his things back onto his trolley, Ron suddenly stood. "Wait-- what about the car?"

"...What about it?" said one twin.

"We could take it to school." said Ron, looking smug.

The twins burst out lauging. "Do you have any idea how bad an idea that is?"

"Ravenclaw. Pssh!"

"You'd be so dead."

" _We'd_ be so dead."

"Won't someone think of our mother?"

Visibly annoyed by either the situation or the twinspeak or both, Harry set his final package on top of his trolley with too hard a slam. "Fine. What do you suggest, then?"

Exchanging a resigned look, Fred and George crossed their arms in perfect synchronicity.

"Floo."

###

Alternate Step One: ~~bitch and moan about lost time~~ Cause mild chaos in the station-- two boys with no luggage are easy to miss while sneaking into the Station office, but four with all manner of school things necessitates a diversion. Nothing involving smoke, though - people are jumpy about that sort of thing these days. Use up some of the pranks originally planned for later. No big loss - used rats last year, anyway.

Step Two: Rush off to the station office as people scream about rats.

Step Three: This part's a little tricky-- shrink your things. It's unauthorized use of underage magic, sure, but too hard to pinpoint with all the people that might conceivably be responsible on the Wizarding side of the office.

Step Four: Floo to Hogsmeade, though this time to The Three Broomsticks. As attached to the original plan as you may be, being the eldest means getting the kids safely to school is priority one. Damn.

Step Five: Walk up to the castle and actually announce your presence. Shite shite shite.

Step Six: Answer all the requisite questions about who/how/why. Be ushered to Gryffindor Tower with a pat on the head for quick thinking and being responsible adults. Oh god. The humanity.

Step Seven: Profess to need a nap. Grin wickedly about things looking up.

Step Eight: Consult the map. Would snog the thing, if possible. Dumbledore's office totally vacant - he's busy walking the perimeter. Filch in his office... time to move.

Step Nine: Break into the Headmaster's Office. Easy as the proverbial pie.

Step Ten: Hellooooo, Hat. One bottle of Confundus Maximus ready to go.

Step El-- Oh. Shite.

###

"Misters Weasley. That was a job very well done in getting your brother and Harry here unharmed," smiled the Headmaster as he entered the room. "We're currently investigating the scene at Platform 9 3/4, but the station agents can find nothing out of the ordinary... apart from the unnatural swarm of rats that are just now disappearing."

Fred slipped the bottle unobtrusively into the pocket of his trousers and George tried to look harmless as he put one hand on his hip, the other shoving the Hat further behind his back.

"Oh! Yeah. Those don't last too long," agreed Fred quickly.

"Two hours, maximum. Though we found that a tweak to the essence of thyme in the formula is all it takes to make them longer or shorter-lived than that," George babbled needlessly.

"I remember," said Dumbledore as he crossed the room to his desk and picked up the candy dish. "Sherbet Lemon?"

"No, thank you sir," the twins both said in perfect unison, watching, mouths dry as the Headmaster popped a candy into his own mouth and clasped his hands.

"Shame. These really are Honeydukes' finest batch to date," he said, tipping his head to peer at the twins over his half-moon spectacles. "Here to interfere with the Hat again, then?"

The twins didn't have to look at one another to feel the current of terror that ran right through Fred to George and back. Swallowing hard, George cracked a huge grin. "Interfering is a funny word for it."

Fred followed suit. "We're just inspecting it, actually."

"Trying to get ideas for our next project," added George, on a roll and feeding off of Fred.

"Sorting Pants." Fred didn't have to try hard at all to look amused as George nodded sagely. Sorting Pants indeed. Good God, but they were clever.

"Very amusing, gentlemen," chuckled Dumbledore. "Will they Confund the posterior of the wearer as well, or will that cost extra?"

"What's that, now?" asked George, to his credit keeping his voice even, though his eyebrows crawled a little higher than they strictly should have.

Dumbledore held a hand out. "May I please have the bottle in your pocket, Mr. Weasley?"

They were utterly done for. Fred handed it over, murmuring, "Yes, sir."

"And the Hat."

George handed that over next. "Yes, sir."

"I-- suppose you'll be writing our parents next," ventured Fred, managing to scoot closer to George.

"Who you can imagine will be thrilled to hear about our latest escapade," said George, who then turned to mutter to Fred, "It won't be so bad, going into exile in Patagonia. I hear there are some potions ingredients to be found there that are to die for."

"Yes, well, good luck getting past Mum first after she flies directly here on wings of naked rage."

Dumbledore spoke quietly. "Gentlemen--"

"Oh, aye, it'll be like a horror novel, what with the screaming and-"

"Gentlemen!"

Fred and George turned their attention to the Headmaster immediately and murmured, "Sorry, sir."

"This is... quite an advanced potion," said Dumbledore, examining the bottle. "I daresay some of our NEWT students would have difficulty replicating it."

"Too right, sir," said George with a proud tilt to his chin.

"It's our own blend, too," added Fred.

"Well," said the Headmaster gravely, pausing before he went on. "Then take fifteen points to Gryffindor each for ushering Harry and Ron to school in a mature and responsible manner, ten each for sheer skill in having made this potion correctly, and finally another ten each for working out how to force the issue of Interhouse Unity. Your punishment for breaking into my office amounts to a deduction of fifteen points each, and a detention set for one week from tomorrow night, in which you will demonstrate your methods of brewing this potion for Professor Snape. And to never speak of this again."

Fred and George stood dumbstruck as Dumbledore spoke.

"I'm sorry, sir?"

"No disrespect intended at all, sir--"

"--but are you sure you didn't come too close to that bottle?"

"Is the bottle _cracked_?"

"Oh, Christ. We Confunded the Headmaster."

"Dead, I tell you. Dead."

"Gentlemen," said Dumbledore, his voice taking on a subtle warning tone that was more than enough to regain their attention. "You heard me correctly, and I am quite clear as to what I've said, including keeping this to yourselves. If word manages to get out about the Hat, you will both find yourselves back in my office for a less pleasant visit than this has been." His eyes narrowed slightly and both twins cringed a little. " _Far_ less pleasant. Are we clear?"

Fred and George nodded quickly. "Yes, sir."

"Thank you, sir."

"Our mother thanks you, sir."

"As do Weasleys everywhere that wish for their honor to remain unbesmirched by our vile pranks."

"Vile, we are. Simply vile."

"Thank you yet again, sir."

Dumbledore's expression softened into another twinkling smile as he set the Hat down and uncorked the bottle. "Thank _you_. Now, Run along. I believe that I'll have to set the Hat out to dry a bit before the Feast once I pour this in."

Thunderstruck, Fred and George nodded, haphazardly obsequious as they backed away. Their feet hit the staircase running and did not stop until they were back in the Tower, collapsed in heaps on their respective beds in shock. It took a few minutes before the mirth set in.

###

Step Twelve: Oh God-- the laughter.

PostMortem Notes:

1) Best. Prank. ~~Ever.~~ Yet.  
2) The Headmaster makes a bloody brilliant accomplice.  
3) _We_ are bloody brilliant, not to mention lucky sods.  
4) We seriously need to stop laughing and get our arses down to the Sorting... after one more minute, maybe.

###

"Lovegood, Luna."

The wide-eyed blonde wandered up to the stool, pigtails askew and smiled up at the very stern, very confused McGonagall. "I'm excited about meeting the Sorting Hat. Dad tells me it knows the best stories."

Professor McGonagall gave her a look that made it clear she'd had quite enough excitement for one day, thank you and merely narrowed her eyes. "Sit down, Miss Lovegood."

Luna flopped into the seat and Professor McGonagall placed the Hat on her head. Almost immediately, she began to grin, followed by a manic giggle that caused her to double over and almost lose the Hat.

"Miss Lovegood!"

She sat up still giggling and the Hat roared, "Gryffindor!!"

Professor McGonagall snatched the Hat from Luna's head with a withering glare. Oblivious, Luna popped to her feet and threw her arms around the elder teacher's waist. "I knew I'd like you! We're kindred spirits!"

Throwing a pained glance in a too-amused Dumbledore's direction, Professor McGonagall carefully peeled the gangly girl away, her tone firm. "Take a seat at the Gryffindor table, Miss Lovegood."

Luna walked away with a bounce in her step, waving as she reached the long bench table. "Hello!"

There were more than a few snickers and one or two very small return greetings. Fred and George grinned widely and waved back with genuine enthusiasm, one speaking right after the other.

"Helloooo!"

"Welcome to Gryffindor."

###

"So the Weasleys. Don't really live in one room, is that right?"

Harry kicked Draco under the table. "No, prat. It's... nice. Comfortable. Their mum does get a little shrill sometimes, but she's... sweet. Cares, you know?"

"Mmph."

"Ron's all right, yeah? Well his brothers are just as cool. Percy's... wound a little tight. But the rest of them are fantastic." Harry added enthusiastically, "They came to get me a in a flying _car_!"

"The car I remember hearing about," said Draco, still clearly unimpressed.

"Oh yeah! I told you about that in Diagon... Alley," Harry trailed off and began picking at his napkin. In his excitement about having escaped the Dursleys at all, he'd somewhat forgotten the fact that the entire subject was touchy. It had started when Dumbledore had prohibited him from visiting Draco at Malfoy Manor last Easter hols, in the same breath suggesting he could visit the Burrow instead and was cemented by Misters Weasley and Malfoy deciding on the time-honored tradition of beating the crap out of each other to establish dominance.

Mentally kicking himself, Harry made a valiant effort at a recovery. "Um. How're things with your father?"

"You mean after his embarassing public display of violence involving a Weasley? Yes-- still unhappy with me for associating with one of them. Still trying to figure out how exactly Granger's a Pureblood, and why I can't seem to get better marks than you, her, Weasley or Parkinson and how the hell his son is a Hufflepuff." Draco rolled his eyes. "In essence, it's all somehow my fault. And I'd better get back on track for following in his footsteps, or else." With a small, wicked smirk for the look on Harry's face, he added, "Oh, and I'm supposed to try and convince you of inherent Pureblood superiority." He pointed to Lovegood, attempting to chat with Crabbe who just looked confused. "Are you convinced? Because I tell you, my faith is shaken. It's... disturbing."

Harry couldn't help but laugh and mutter, "I missed you."

###  
  
"Weasley, Ginevra."  
  
Ginny strode to the stool fearlessly and sat, almost daring the Hat to Sort her.

"Another Weasley!" the Hat shouted, and Ginny's nose twitched. "I know exactly what to do with you."

Professor McGonagall heaved a quiet sigh of relief, thinking that maybe there at the end of the alphabet, something might go right.

"Slytherin!"

Eyes wide, Ginny stood and tossed the Hat onto the stool, muttering as she made her way to the Slytherin table. Chin up, she took a seat, and Professor McGonagall threw her hands up, gathered the stool and the Hat with tangible loathing and walked away.

Flint narrowed his eyes at her and growled, "Weasley."

Ginny snatched the water pitcher right out of his hands without taking her eyes from him. "That's right. Proud Blood Traitor. Youngest of seven, and fully equipped to deal with _you_ , if you have a problem with that." She poured herself a goblet of water with hands that felt as though they'd never stop shaking, though thankfully, they appeared steady enough when viewed out of the corner of her eye. "Do you?"

Isolated snickering broke out at the table as Pucey slapped Flint on the back and made a rude comment about being slapped down by a firstie. A girl sporting a thick, fuzzy braid laughed and held out a hand as Flint continued to glare.

"Hermione Granger. I'm a friend of your brother's. You and I sort of met in passing in Diagon Alley."

"Yeah, I remember," said Ginny, taking the offered hand. "He mentions you sometimes." She left out 'in his sleep' as a sheer courtesy.

Neville offered his hand next. "Neville Longbottom."

Ginny's smile grew wider as she shook his hand, finally remembering to put the pitcher down. "Oh! Um, hi. He mentions you, too. Only not in his sleep."

Hermione and Neville glanced at one another and back at Ginny, who could only grin winningly and try and play it off. "Water?"

###

"Now, Minerva--" said the Headmaster as Professor McGonagall dumped the Sorting Hat on the table in front of him and thumped the stool down.

"Albus, this has gone far enough," she said, not giving him a chance to answer as she went on. "The Sorting is useless, the Houses have run mad, and I am about to follow. Therefore, I leave my Gryffindors in the capable hands of their Prefects for the remainder of the evening and I am going to retire to my rooms, crack open my father's bottle of Glenlivet and pine for the old days when the only time you used that tone on me was because you'd caught me roaming the halls at night."

"Minerva," Dumbledore said, as placating as he could be, but she would not hear it.

"No. I'm sure you've a perfectly good explanation, but I simply cannot handle it tonight," she said as she clamped her hands to her hips. "Not at all. But let me tell you-- tomorrow, you come clean."

As she strode away, she stopped and pointed at Professor Snape, currently picking disgustedly at the food on his plate and occasionally casting dirty looks in the direction of the Hufflepuff table. "And you, Severus, are welcome to join me, if you feel the need to complain loudly about your lot in life. Or just whine some more."

Snape curled his lip in repsonse, but she had already turned on her heel and stormed off.

The Headmaster turned his attention to Professor Snape with a sigh that still somehow managed to sound amused, "Severus, while I've got your attention-- I've set a detention for the Weasley twins with you a week from tomorrow so that they may demonstrate their unique and complex methods of arriving at a potion that I think you'll agree could be very useful. I hope this doesn't interfere with any previous plans of yours."

Staring vaguely horrified in Dumbledore's direction for a moment, Snape stood, letting his chair drag backward loudly. "Excuse me, Headmaster. I think I've an appointment with half a bottle of Glenlivet."

###

Ron stared as Ginny was made a Slytherin. Just because he spent a significant amount of time studying with, and actually associating with two of them didn't mean they were all right. Granger was out of her mind and sure to become either Minister of Magic or the next Dark Lord and Longbottom was far too quiet. Sure some of the others didn't seem too bad, either, but they were still _Slytherins_ , and now so was his little sister.

He sighed as the food appeared and dispiritedly began filling his plate to the brim.

"Since when does food make you unhappy?" asked Pansy, watching him shovel with fascination, as though she'd never seen it before.

"Never," he said, taking a bite of his bread. "Mmph. Ers js'--"

"Ugh, Ron." Pansy wrinkled her nose. "Please. Swallow first."

Ron did. Then he went on. "It's just, my sister's a Slytherin. I mean, I knew she was a sneaky little witch, but wow. That's... wow. Parents aren't going to be too thrilled about it, either."

Pansy shrugged. "As long as she doesn't start talking about taking over the world, they'll be fine. Mine got over my surprise Sorting after all. And at least it helped that it wasn't Gryffindor--" She flinched at his glare. "Sorry, but you know. When you come from a long line of Slytherins, there's not much that could go worse than that might have been."

"Alright," said Ron between mouthfuls of chicken. "Imagine that, but the other way. A long line of Gryffindors? Sorted Slytherin?"

"...Oh. Ouch," said Pansy with a little grimace. "That might be a little trickier."

"Exactly. I-"

A bright flash of light interrupted Ron's sentence and he blinked. Pansy made a shrill little 'meep' sound, and as his vision returned, Ron caught sight of a small, blond firstie sporting a brand new Ravenclaw patch on his robes. Crumpey? Crustful?

"Hi! I'm Colin Creevey! I'm a Muggleborn! No one in my family was magic before me! My dad's a milkman!" The kid fired it all off with barely a breath in between, and Ron and Pansy could only stare. "And I'm a Ravenclaw, too!"

"Um, hi, Colin," said Ron, tentatively as Pansy glared. "We're trying to eat, here."

"Me too! Only, I wanted to take some photos, too. It's what I do, I love it, there's nothing better and--"

Pansy held up her hand and pointed in Harry and Draco's direction. "See him there? That's Harry Potter. You've heard of him, haven't you?"

"Reeeally? I mean, yeah, of course - just today on the train." Colin's eyes went wide. "Do you know him?"

"Yes, absolutely. He's a dear friend of ours," smiled Pansy in a dead-on imitation of warm sincerity. "He'd love it if you took pictures of him. And his best friend, too-- the blond kid? They live for the attention."

"Excellent. Thanks!" said Colin as he bounced off.

Ron watched the boy scamper off toward the Hufflepuff table, shaking his head. "You're seriously evil," he grinned as he turned to Pansy. "Why again aren't you a Slytherin?"

Pansy grinned right back. "Your guess is as good as mine."

###

Cedric walked up behind Harry and Draco and dropped a heavy hand on each of their shoulders and their eyes went comically wide as he leaned in. "Good summer, lads?"

"Not so much," Harry said, relaxing slightly and rolling his eyes to Draco, who gladly finished the thought he knew Cedric wanted to hear.

"No Quidditch."

Laughing, Cedric thumped them both hard enough to make them drop the forks in their hands. "That's exactly what I wanted to hear. You two are up first in the team tryouts on Saturday, and let me tell you, you don't have any competition."

Draco sniffed. "As if that was a surprise."

Voice just above a murmur now, Cedric said conspiratorially, "First game of the season is Hufflepuff versus Gryffindor. Johnson, Bell and Spinnet are definitely still on the team with the way they play. Wood and I scrimmaged a bit in the summer with Davies and some of the other blokes, and it's damn near impossible to play past him if he's on his game, but the two of you have a chance." He added under his breath, "May as well be psychic the way you fly. Nearly as bad as the Weasley twins... which could be a problem since no doubt they're staying on as Beaters as well. Now, Gryffindor's real weakness is that they have no Seeker to speak of."

"They're so dead," grinned Harry, bumping knuckles with an overly smug Draco.

Cedric pointed at him from up close, dead serious. "Don't get cocky. But between me and you-- " He broke into a grin as he straightened up. "--you're absolutely right."

At that, a roll came flying in a perfectly-aimed trajectory across the table and nailed Cedric in the forehead, or would have if he hadn't caught it at the last minute, eliciting an 'ooooh' of admiration from the Hufflepuffs around him. Oliver Wood was lolling back against the Gryffindor table, slapping five with a snickering Katie Bell without taking his eyes off of Cedric.

"You're going down, Diggory," Oliver grinned. He was dead serious, as he always was when it came to Quidditch, but it amounted to trash-talking without real malice. "Not even your ickle celebrities can save you, you know."

"You wish, Wood," growled Harry, eyes narrow, as Draco did his best to look unimpressed and flash a rude gesture in Oliver's direction. The whole of the Gryffindor team surrounding him made sounds of appropriate mock-fear, but Oliver only grinned.

"Care to put a friendly wager on that, Diggory? Put your money where their mouths are?"

"Anytime, Wood," Cedric grinned right back. "But it isn't money I want out of you."

Oliver made a show of looking impressed. "Oooooh. Now I'm really scared." He sat forward with a wicked smirk. "Name your terms."

###

"Oh my God. How do their egos all fit in one room?" muttered Hannah as she watched the scene between the Hufflepuff and Gryffindor Quidditchers just down the table from them with disdain. "Just because they're fast on a broom and are possessed of some sort of talent, they think they're so wonderful."

Grunting as he swallowed his mouthful, Vince cast a thoughtful look toward the Hufflepuff table. "Nah. Draco's always been like that."

"'S true," nodded Greg, pointing with his fork.

"It's disgusting." Hannah said, swishing her pumpkin juice around in her glass. "How can you even stand it?"

Vince shrugged. "'S just how he is. Sort of funny, really. Plus he always knows what to do."

"And sometimes he's even right," added Greg. He looked across Hannah to Vince, a little confused. "We didn't talk to him all that much last year."

"Knew something was weird," said Vince in agreement. "We should."

Greg nodded and then turned his attention to Hannah. "You'll see. We'll introduce you."

Still put out, Hannah didn't look all too enthused by the prospect. "Sure he'll want to meet me? I'm just a _dumb Gryffindor_."

"No you're not, Hannah," said Greg. " _We're_ dumb Gryffindors. You're a smart one."

"And a fast one," Vince said. "You could play Quidditch, too."

Greg grinned and nodded. "Yeah! Dumwelton's gone. Team needs a new Seeker. You could do it."

Hannah opened and shut her mouth once, realizing just how petulant and cranky she must have sounded and just how lucky she was to have Vince and Greg around. She grinned widely at both of them and lifted her chin. "You're not _dumb_. You're my friends. And you're right. I'm trying out for the team this weekend. I can fly just as well as they can."

"Better!" said Greg and Vince, who were easily amused and began to snicker-snort belatedly through their drinks.

"We said that at the same time."

Grinning widely, Hannah slumped over against Greg with a giggle. "Yeah, you did."

###

Colin chose just the moment that negotiations between Oliver and Cedric had been finalized to step between the Hufflepuff and Gryffindor tables and snap a photo of the Hufflepuffs in question. His dizzying introduction was cut short as Cedric reached over the table between Harry and Draco, took hold of Creevey's tie and tugged him forward.

"You, firstie, need to learn some manners."

Harry and Draco shared a grin behind Cedric. Apparently, it was finally someone else's turn to be re-educated.

###

Oblivious to the scuffle not far away, Luna picked at her afters, carefully piling small chunks of bread pudding strategically into a relatively stable tower, every fourth spoonful redirected to her mouth instead. Absently she turned to the person nearest her and began to speak, though her eyes stayed on her creation.

"Bread pudding is an excellent building material when made to the correct density." She shook her head. "I'm afraid that when it's less moist than optimal, it's not sticky enough to not need mortar. And when it's more sticky, it's a little too unstable to be anything but the mortar itself."

Shoving another spoonful in her mouth and carefully chewing mouth closed, she turned to the person she'd been speaking to, fully expecting that they wouldn't have been paying attention, or possibly just frowning at the interruption. Instead she found a freckled face topped with the most interesting ginger hair staring directly at her with a smile, its twin offset a bit behind it so she could see both.

"Yeah?" said the first.

The second one adding, "Go on."

Luna swallowed, and then did. "Well, when it's more sticky, you can really only use it for glue to hold the bits of other food items together. Far less well-known is that if you add a little white glue and Floo powder, you can get it to make a flammable candle sculpture." Utterly serious, she went on, "Only, I haven't been able to make it only catch flame from one part, so it sort of resembles a pile of whatever on fire, rather than whatever festive candle shapes I've managed. Daddy put a ban on them in the house. But they're still sort of pretty."

One twin looked at the other and then back at Luna. "Do you do this sort of thing often? The experimenting?"

"Oh yes," said Luna, stirring absently at her pudding structure. "Only I wasn't to touch Potions until I got to school. I had to content myself with reading and rereading all of my Mum's old Charms, Arithmancy and Transfiguration texts for ideas." She leaned in to whisper conspiratorially. "I had a lot of free time after she died, so Dad used to let me practice at home. I got my wand when I was ten!"

"Fred Weasley," said the closest twin, offering a hand to shake as the other twin half-stood to reach.

"George Weasley," he grinned.

"Luna Lovegood," said the spacey blond as she took the hand of the twin nearest her and lifted it by the index finger to inspect it closely before shaking it properly. "All clear. That's a relief." She repeated the process with the other twin's offered hand. "It's very nice to meet you."

Fred shrugged it off and kept grinning. "Tell us, Luna--"

"--What else have you managed to invent?" George finished, heaping another spoonful of pudding onto her dish and leaning his chin on the palm of his hand, everso interested in what she had to say.

"Oh!" She said, obviously delighted. "There were--"

The Headmaster called for attention and asked Prefects to begin herding students to their dormitories and Luna abandoned her pudding castle to stand and begin queueing up. "--A lot of things. Maybe next time you're bored, you can sit near me and we'll talk again."

"No, no," grinned Fred, and it hadn't occurred to Luna that she had no problem telling them apart.

"We want to hear about it," said George, with a nod.

"We'll walk with you."

###

Step One: Recruit a consultant from the lower years, almost as brilliant and innovative as we are.

Step Two (this one's for everyone else's benefit): Fear.


End file.
